Manny Rayner's book reviews

Roughly, a comic version of Ayn Rand written for seven year olds. If you're an Objectivist parent or just want to explain the advantages of laissez-faire capitalism, get your kid started on this without delay.

- Miss Potter, may I ask what your new book will be about?

- Some mice help a tailor make a waistcoat. But the ending is flat.

- No twist?

- Ah... of course! A wonderful suggestion!

For the Celebrity Death Match Review Tournament, The Annotated Alice (6) versus 1984 (22)

- Good morning, Mr... Dumpty, I believe it was?

- Correct. Humpty Dumpty at your service.

- Well, we hope you soon will be. I must admit, we don't normally like to employ egghead intellectuals... no offence intended...

- None taken.

- ... but you are so extremely well qualified to take over as editor of the Newspeak Dictionary that, ah, we thought we'd make an exception.

The rest of this review is in my book If Research Were Romance and Other Implausible Conjectures

The next asteroid the Little Prince came to was inhabited by a Quiz Addict. He sat hunched in front of his laptop, and barely looked up when the Little Prince greeted him. There was nowhere else to sit, since the whole asteroid was covered in books.

"Good morning!" said the Little Prince.

"I'm sorry, I don't have time to talk to you," said the Quiz Addict. "I am very busy. Wait. In Twilight, what color was Edward's car?"

"I don't know," said the Little Prince. "I have never read this book Twilight."

"I think it was blue," said the man. "Damn! I was wrong. Silver. In Twilight, who joined the Cullen family first?"

"I told you," said the Little Prince, "that I haven't read this book. But it must be an interesting book if you answer questions about it all day long. I would very much like to read it."

"It is the stupidest book ever written!" said the man.

"Then why do you answer questions about it all day long?" asked the Little Prince.

"Because if I don't," sighed the man, "then my friend on asteroid B451 will get ahead of me. "He has read the whole series. Luckily, he hasn't read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows."

"When you have finished the Quiz," asked the Little Prince, "I hope you will be able to read some of these books you have around you? I notice that you have had Atonement on your to-read list for the last six months."

"It is a Never-Ending Quiz," answered the man. "In Twilight, what color was Edward's car?"

"I believe you said silver?" answered the Little Prince politely.

"Thank you," muttered the man. "Yes! You were right. I should have known that."

"I'm sorry, I must be going," said the Little Prince. And he went on his way, thinking that grown-ups were very, very, very strange.

This review is in my book If Research Were Romance and Other Implausible Conjectures

I didn't usually like girly books when I was a kid, but this one was an exception. Her matter-of-fact descriptions of life in the Big Woods were just so fascinating! The fact that the main character was a girl seemed pretty irrelevant.

Beth Ann and I have several times discussed writing a modern-day sequel entitled Little House in the Valley. Laura gets up early every morning to sort the spam and check the website. Then she squeezes orange juice and makes two big lattes for Daddy and his boyfriend...

Inspired by Ramblefoot, a gritty, naturalistic, no-holds-barred depiction of the lives of wolves, I couldn't help wondering if similar treatments weren't possible for other classics. Here's an extract from my draft rabbit novel, provisionally entitled Nojacket:

Peter finished his breakfast, but the insipid, cloying taste of the dead dandelion leaves left him unsatisfied. The craving was starting to build up in him again. He needed to veg out. Suddenly, he started as a voice came from right behind him.

"We're looking for blackberries. You want to come, Peter?"

It was his half-sister Flopsy, a precociously formed doe. She was not yet one summer old, yet already her haunches had the rounded look of a mature female. She exuded an enticing, musky odor. As if by chance, she turned her head so that their whiskers brushed, and seductively twitched her nose. For a moment, Peter was tempted, but the other urge was too strong.

"Sorry, Flopsy. I've got... stuff to do."

With one bound, he had scooped up his blue jacket, the mark of the civilized young rabbit, and was out of the burrow before he could change his mind. He lolloped down the path as he had done many times before, then, looking both ways, he eased his trembling body under the hard wood of the gate. He was on McGregor territory.

He straightened up, all his senses maximally alert, but there were no warning signals yet. With the practiced ease of the professional thief, he took the short-cut through the gooseberry bushes and emerged directly in the vegetable garden. His eyes glistened with desire as he saw the huge, plump lettuces. No longer caring about safety, he immediately attacked the nearest one, slicing into it with his razor-sharp front teeth. Green juices ran down his chin as he gorged himself on the unresisting leaves. His eyes half-closed, he chewed, swallowed, bit again, forcing the food down his throat as fast as he could eat until he reached the tender heart. In less time than one could believe possible, the lettuce was no more than an eviscerated husk. Peter contemptuously tossed away the bitter stem and then started on the radishes. Their tart, peppery red flesh contrasted delightfully with the sweet lettuce, and he frenziedly ate one after another. His swollen stomach hurt, but the pleasure was still stronger.

Dreadful space opera trash - none the less, this book holds a special place in my heart because of the circumstances in which I read it. I discovered E.E. Doc Smith when I was 8 (this is the right age to appreciate him), and was so entranced that I brought Galactic Patrol with me to school so that I could read the exciting conclusion during morning break. A few days later, I was mortified to hear my teacher tell my parents how cute it was that "I was pretending to read this adult book that was obviously way past my reading level".

Well, she clearly knew as much about me as she did about E.E. Doc Smith. Are you out there, third grade teacher? YOU WERE WRONG!

For the Celebrity Death Match Review Tournament, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (9) versus The Complete Tales and Poems of Winnie-the-Pooh (24)

It was a most enjoyable picnic. Pooh was just finishing the last bit of honey and licking around the edge of the pot in a Contented Way, when he suddenly realised that he was sitting on something. Something damp and squishy. Something...

"Oh bother!!" said Pooh. "Drat and bother and double bother!!! I've sat on two of Rabbit's Friends and Relations! Oh, what will Christopher Robin say!"

Christopher Robin came over and examined the two former mice.

"Pooh," he said gravely, "these are not Friends and Relations. They are Deadly Killer Mice From Outer Space. You are the Best Bear In The World, and you have Saved The Hundred Acre Wood."

And Pooh had never felt so proud and happy in all his life.

I like The Wonderful O as much now as I did when I first read it at age 8. If you haven't come across it, imagine that George Orwell and Lewis Carroll got drunk one night and decided to collaborate on a short children's book. No description will do it justice.

But to give you a taste of what you're missing, here's the song that Black and Littlejack sing as they set out on their insane quest to ban the letter 'O':

I won't go down the horrible street
To see the horrible people
I'll gladly climb the terrible stair
That leads to the terrible steeple
And the terrible rats
And the terrible bats
And the cats in the terrible steeple
But I won't go down the horrible street
To see the horrible people

This is a novel I like a lot, which I've experienced in different ways at different points in my life. I first read it when I was six or seven, and thought it was a great story. There are these kids, and they find a castle, and a magic ring. At first they think it's an invisibility ring. Then, to their surprise, they find it can make inanimate objects come to life, or make you rich. After a while, they come to a truly startling conclusion: the ring can do anything at all! When its latest power wears off, the owner can just tell it what new power it is to acquire. They come up with some creative ideas, which are a lot of fun; one of the best ones is where they find that the statues in the castle's grounds come to life at night, and they can themselves become living statues. One of the statues is a life-size brontosaurus. Like many seven year olds, I loved dinosaurs. This ring was amazing!

The rest of this review is in my book What Pooh Might Have Said to Dante and Other Futile Speculations

Winnie the Pooh and the Cocktail Party

"Hi. I'm Vikki. Sorry, what did you say your name was? So noisy in here you can't hear a thing. Ed. Got it. Nice to meet you, Ed! What? Oh, I'm a model. Glamor. Thanks! Well, if you've walked past the men's magazine section this week, then you will have. Front cover of Loaded. Really? Hey, that's sweet. No, I mean it. You're really nice. Oh, alright then. Would you believe it, stockings and a honey-pot. That was it. Yes, I do actually. Love it. Have it for breakfast every morning. Guess that's why the shot came out so well. Me and a honey-pot... I didn't even notice the camera. I know, it sounds silly. Yes, the runny kind, that's my favorite too. Get out! Really? OK, OK, let's hear your honey story. Sorry? You actually climbed up the tree to get it? That's awesome. OMG. What, how high were you? Jesus Christ. You didn't break anything? You know, you're a lot tougher than you look. I love the way you said that. Can't stand these macho types. Oh, go on, tell me another one. OK... OK... a what trap? A Hefner lump? Sorry, just too noisy. Never mind, what happened next? Hey, I do that too! I know, once you've started you just can't stop. You're the first person I've ever met who understands. You what?? You actually got your head stuck in it?! Ha! Oh, you are totally cracking me up, I love this story! Ha! Ha! I'm sorry about your friend though, I hope he recovered. It's funny, I just feel so relaxed with you. It's like I've known you for ages. Since I was a little girl in fact. Oh, I see everyone's starting to leave. Look, I know this sounds crazy, like we've only just met and I'll probably regret it in the morning, but come home with me. Um, well, yes and no. I just... I just want to hold you. All night. You do? You really do understand? Ed, I can't believe this. It feels like fate. I'm so happy I met you. OK, let me get my coat. We're outta here."

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If you want to examine the magazine cover which inspired the review, note that, as the review suggests, it's in dubious taste, and features a mostly naked woman. If that kind of thing offends you, don't look at it! Otherwise, it's at http://img.thesun.co.uk/multimedia/archive/00771/Loaded181-April_180_771021a.jpg

There's a scene in the movie Heartburn where Jack Nicholson is reading this book to his very young daughter. He finishes it, and sits there stunned for a second. Then he shakes his head and whistles. "Whew! What a story!"

I concur :)
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The plot of Jemima Puddleduck is remarkable similar to that of many trashy French crime novels. I consider this further in my review of Les Stripteaseuses du Petit Ecran.

In which the animals meet a Hostile Reviewer, and Pooh invents a New Breakfast

One morning, Pooh and Piglet were walking through the Hundred Acre Wood, when they spied a strange Creature lying on the ground. As they got closer, they could see that it looked a bit like a very large Boy. But what was most remarkable was that someone had tied it down with hundreds of tiny ropes. It could hardly move a finger, and there was even something tied over its mouth.

"Mmf!" said the creature in a loud but rather stifled voice.

"Oh Pooh!" said Piglet nervously. "Do you think it's a... a Heffalump?"

Pooh walked around it carefully.

"No," he said at last, "I don't think it's a Heffalump. I think it's a kind of Woozle, and it's playing Gulliverstravels."

"Mmf!" said the creature again.

"You see," said Pooh, "I was right. Well, if he is a Swift fan, I happen to have a little Hum, based on that well-known piece, A Modest Proposal, which I'm sure he will like."

He cleared his throat, and was just about to start Humming, when who should turn up but Christopher Robin and Rabbit.

"Look, Christopher Robin!" said Pooh. "We've found a Woozle, and we're playing Gulliverstravels!"

Christopher Robin looked at the creature on the ground.

"Silly old bear!" he said affectionately. "That's not a Woozle! That's a Hostile Reviewer. Rabbit, I don't suppose you might know how he got here?"

"Well," said Rabbit modestly, "it's possible that my friends and relations had something to do with it. They were rather tired of certain comments they had seen on Goodreads. But I think we could remove that gag at least."

The Reviewer did indeed seem very Hostile. He glared at them for a while, and then muttered something about "one star" and "pouring sugar down your throat".

"Oh yes!" said Pooh eagerly. "You're right! I've tried it many times, and the sugar just gets into the Tickliest Places. That's why I prefer Honey." And then he suddenly became very quiet, because he had had a Good Idea.

"We need to Do Something," said Rabbit, paying him no attention. "I have made a List of Suggestions." He took out a piece of paper.

"First, we could ask Tigger to Bounce him."

"Tigger doesn't always Follow Orders," said Christopher Robin.

"Second, we could roll him in Eeyore's Thistly Patch."

"It would spoil the thistles," said Christopher Robin.

"Third, we could ask Owl to write an Angry Comment."

"I'm not sure," said Christopher Robin, "that Owl's broadband connection is working after the recent Blustery Day."

"Fourth, we could play Poohsticks with him. I thought I would ask Pooh... now where is he? He was here a few minutes ago."

And indeed, Pooh was nowhere to be seen. But a moment later, they heard his voice, and then he came around a tree, carrying a large tray.

"Look!" said Pooh, rather out of breath. "It suddenly came to me. You melt the sugar, and dip biscuits in it, and then you wait for them to cool and spread them with honey and condensed milk. Kanga helped me. I'm calling it Hostile Reviewer's Breakfast."

"Ah yes!" said Christopher Robin. "That's what we're going to do!"

So they untied the reviewer, and they all sat down and ate Hostile Reviewer's Breakfast together until there was not a crumb left, and the Reviewer's review was covered in sticky stars. And everyone agreed that they had never eaten anything quite so delicious in all their lives.

The headset-wearing member of the household lent her reserve pair to another afflicted neighbor. And, this morning...

Now who is this knocking on Cottontail's door?
Tap tappit! Tap tappit! She's heard it before.
But when she looks out there is nobody there
Just a returned headset left out on the stair.

There it is again! Tap tap tappit!
Why, I do believe it's a Lindt chocolate rabbit!

This recipe suddenly came to me just now while we were out taking an invigorating New Year's Day walk:

double shot vodka
half glass carrot juice
splash of Worcestershire sauce
ice

Put ingredients into a cocktail shaker. Shake, and strain into a chilled glass.

And it's called... you got it!

For people who missed Private Eye's obituary poem a couple of decades ago:

Seventy-seven, shorn of his locks
Christopher Robin beds down in a box
No need to whisper, we've got past that stage
Christopher Robin has died of old age